Speak Not
by Hayasaka.Shion
Summary: After every session of harsh abuse, she never fails to come to him. When Kazeshini breaks her, Muramasa fixes her. But... why? MuraNeko oneshot.


"Take it off."

The words were said in a calm, placid done – but also a tone which left no room for argument. The words might have seemed lewd, even perverted to someone who didn't know they had another meaning, even though Muramasa was referring to the pink, fur-lined top she was wearing. Even so, Haineko tried.

"Really, no…"

She knew it was hopeless – Muramasa always got his own way. But she still held on to the illusion that maybe he'd let it go this time. She didn't want anyone to see _that._

"Haineko, take it off."

"No!"

"Haineko, if you do not I will do it myself."

He took a step forward as if that would authenticate his threat, even though they both knew it was a complete bluff. Muramasa would never force her to do anything.

"I need to see it. Take it off."

"No! Muramasa, don't come any closer!"

What she had really wanted to say was _Muramasa, hold me. I'm broken._

Suddenly Muramasa jerked. Jerked his hand away from where it was going to her back, with the sole intention of unzipping her meager upper covering. When she finally found the strength to look at his eyes, she and he both saw the same thing – they were both broken.

"Please – please. I _need _to see it, Haineko. I need to see what _he's _done to you."

"H- he hasn't done anything!"

It was a lie, and that was obvious. Muramasa felt another pang over the left side of his chest- the organ that beat there was in pain. Many nights Muramasa had stared with dry eyes into the black darkness and thought – thought long and hard about why Haineko had to love _Kazeshini _of all people. Even more perplexing, why she stayed with him through everything – even when the name-calling started. The light scoldings soon turned to outright rages, and finally to solid blows.

Though Haineko had never said a word, every zanpakutou who knew her at all knew it immediately, and Muramasa knew it best of all. He could tell what mood Kazeshini was in by looking at how much she covered up her skin, blaming it on the cold. It had been a scalding summer the day she had said it.

Every time, after every session, she had come, unfailingly, to Muramasa. Consciously, maybe she did not know it, but her deeper, subconscious self knew – knew why her feet always led her to where Muramasa was. That subconscious self, however, did not know why he always let her in without a word, why he always dropped whatever he was doing for her, why he always let her cry out everything in his arms.

"Please, Haineko. Show me." his voice, broken, expressed only a fraction of the real, wild, bone-crunching despair he felt. Couldn't Haineko do at least that much for him?

Haineko knew she couldn't stall any longer. That sorrow in Muramasa's voice – when she heard that, she knew she _had _to show him. Muramasa was good – Muramasa cared about her, gave a damn about her. Countless times she had come to him for some reason – come sobbing, a crying, broken mess, and he had picked up the pieces of her heart, and slowly, meticulously, pieced it back together.

She turned around and let those fingers unzip her provocative shirt. Muramasa could not hold a gasp inside. Today Kazeshini must have been in a worse mood that usual, judging by the many twin blade marks on Haineko's back. She had carelessly patted a tissue over them, and then they were covered by her shirt. Kazeshini had attacked her with his _released _form.

Muramasa cussed, and then sat her down on his bed, leaving to rummage around for some bandages and alcohol. The blood from Haineko's wounds flowed freely without the restraining surface of the tissue and shirt, making countless tiny marks as it flowed down only to be absorbed by the white bedspread on Muramasa's bed.

Muramasa quickly found what he was looking for – the bandages were used often. He sat down behind Haineko and began cleansing her wounds with an alcohol soaked piece of cotton. She hissed out loud, but offered no objection.

Once more he felt his hatred of Kazeshini grow as black as the demon himself. How _dare _he do this? Just because Haineko was faithful to him did not mean he could toss her around and break her like a lifeless doll! Haineko had emotions just like any other zanpakutou did.

"Haineko…" he began, pondering how to put his point across.

"Don't." said Haineko, cutting off his flow of speech as well as his train of thought.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to talk."

He obeyed her wishes. If Haineko said she did not want to confide in him, it meant he was untrustworthy – she did not trust him enough. He ignored the heavy weight he felt smack over his chest and continued his attendance to her wounds.

"I'll have to come in front," he said, "if you'll let me."

To wrap the bandages he would need access to both her front and back. The problem was, she was a lady. Hence her front was… private.

Haineko did not blush. She carefully thought. Kazeshini would not forgive her if he found out Muramasa had seen… her. But the wounds hurt – they burned across her skin like lava across ice.

"May I?" he inquired, tonelessly.

_Screw it, _thought Haineko. If Kazeshini found out, let him find out. But Muramasa – Muramasa was helping her where Kazeshini was breaking her. And anyways, Muramasa was _asking, _where Kazeshini would have just barged in with no respect for her privacy. _I trust Muramasa._

She nodded her consent.

Muramasa felt an unexpected lightening over his shoulders. Expressionless, stoic, he wrapped the bandages around her tanned, firm but slender body. He did not dare look at her eyes. Haineko, on the other hand, took this opportunity to observe Muramasa. This was one of the rare chances she got where she could see him up close.

The look on her face softened as she drank in the sight of his shaggy brown hair, his turquoise eyes now narrowed in concentration. Muramasa was such a rock – a firm rope to grab on to when the storm was breaking. She knew the rope would never break – Muramasa would never stop helping her. That was the one solid truth in her lopsided world.

He announced the completion of his task.

"Haineko…"

"What?"

"Where is he?"

"Gone for the night. To Zabimaru's.

"You mean… to visit them?"

"No. I mean to visit – Chimpette."

"Alone?"

"Alone."

"And he's still your… suitor?"

"He's still my boyfriend."

"Why?"

"I love him."

The voice that spoke the statement was perfectly steady, tonelessly repeating the three words as if they were rehearsed over and over until they conquered her brain.

A frown tugged at Muramasa's lips.

"Stay with me tonight."

As she said those words, suddenly Haineko's composure cracked – as clearly as though someone had brought a heavy punch down on a castle of toothpicks. Her tears, which she thought had subsided, began anew and left fresh tear-tracks down her cheeks. Her hands shook uncontrollably.

"Please! You have to! Stay with me… Just for tonight…"

Muramasa took her fists, which had been beating at his chest, into his own hands. He felt how badly they were trembling.

"You don't need to ask," he stated, his own voice clear, but just a bit cracked, "I'll stay with you forever if you want."

Haineko hugged him hard, as if he was a dream she was afraid would evaporate as mist in the face of the morning sun. Her tears soaked through his white clothes, but that was as insignificant as a fly in Muramasa's mind. This thing they had – the touch, the comfort, the emotion – all of that would vanish off without a trace in the morning. Then Haineko would become Kazeshini's girl-friend, and any trace of Haineko herself would be lost, evaporating into just the memories Muramasa had of her.

They both slept, Muramasa roughly holding Haineko.

Haineko thanked whoever was listening that Muramasa did not hold her gently, like a little porcelain doll. She didn't like that at all. Haineko was an independent woman who could hold her own in a fight any day. But all the same, the roughness provided more contact, and that was what Haineko needed more than anything else as of that moment. She needed to know that she really existed, that there was someone who would feel her loss, mourn for her if she suddenly faded away into wisps of nothingness.

"Muramasa?"

"What?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"What am I doing?"

"Helping me."

"That," replied Muramasa, after a long and definite pause, "is my little secret."

"You can tell me your secret."

"Of course not. It's _my _secret."

"Possessive, aren't you?"

"Not in the least," he replied, looking offended at the idea.

"Then tell me your secret."

"Maybe I will," he spoke, breathing in the catty smell of Haineko's hair, her back against him, his arms around her, "someday. When I feel like I can tell you."

_That will probably be never, _thought Muramasa. Haineko sighed in mock irritation and went to sleep in the sanctuary of his arms.

Muramasa waited a few more moments to make sure she was comfortable before he went to sleep himself with a single thought echoing in his head. _Haineko, you want to know my secret? Very well then. My secret is that…_

_I love you._


End file.
